A MONARCH TO THE DEATH
For several moments none of the astounded hunters spoke. Frank was
trembling with excitement. Phil seemed to have lost his reason. The
latter boy turned as if to walk away. Lord Pelton was the first to
recover his senses.
“It’s the old ram,” he muttered.
“Yes, yes, the old ram,” repeated Phil in a dazed way.
Frank laughed hysterically.
“What’s the matter?” continued the Englishman. “Aren’t you goin’ to bag
him?”
“Yes,” mumbled Phil, “ain’t we goin’ to bag him?”
Then, to the surprise of his companions, Phil dropped down on a rock
and buried his face in his hands. That broke Frank’s spell.
“What’s the matter here? Wake up!” he cried grasping Phil by the
shoulder. “It’s ‘Old Baldy’ alive. Maybe not kickin’, but alive.”
“‘Old Baldy!’” shouted Phil springing to his feet. “What was I doin’?”
“You were having the rattles,” laughed Frank nervously. “And so was I.
I certainly never expected to really see him.”
So far as could be seen not an animal had moved. The flock, as if
panic-stricken, stood huddled at the bottom of the big ram’s shelf. The
strangely marked leader still lay with his head erect and alert. Phil,
not yet wholly himself, drew a long breath.
“He’s alive, I reckon, but he looks like a ghost,” said Phil. “And by
cracky, he _is_ a ghost to _me_.”
“He ain’t a ghost,” exclaimed Frank, moistening his lips, “and I
wouldn’t make him one for all the ram’s horns in the Rockies.”
“That would be potting, I fancy,” commented Lord Pelton. “I rather
believe your ‘Old Baldy’ is on his last legs.”
“It’s just like a king’s throne,” suggested Phil, “that cave o’ his
with the flock crowdin’ round about it.”
“I couldn’t shoot him,” exclaimed Frank. “I’d feel like an assassin.”
[Illustration: “OLD BALDY”]
“Do you happen to notice,” broke in the Englishman, “that all the sheep
are ewes and lambs?”
“That settles it,” exclaimed Frank. “I vote to spare the ‘Monarch of
the Mountains.’ ‘Old Baldy’ _must_ be Husha the Black Ram. And to me,
he’s kind o’ like a religion.”
“He’s a part of history at least,” added Lord Pelton.
“It seems tough to lose him,” said Phil, “but I think you’re both
right. Let’s take a snap shot of him and call it off.”
This suggestion meeting approval, Phil got the camera. He made a
picture of the enclosure and its contents which, when printed in a
prominent sporting magazine, created a sensation. It was then decided
to get a picture of “Old Baldy,” or “Husha.”
“Let ’em go,” exclaimed Frank when the ewes and kids suddenly fled to
the left around the shelf as the picture makers advanced on the right
side. “We don’t want ’em.”
As panic seized the flock and it retreated, the big ram on the shelf
drew himself on his haunches.
“Why don’t he follow them?” asked Lord Pelton.
“He can’t,” answered Frank. “He’s too old.”
But, as Phil trained his camera on the quarter century chief of the
sheep, “Old Baldy” faced the intruders with lowered head and eyes that
shot forth the fire of youth and rage. Twice he struggled to get on his
feet and each time he failed.
“You’re right,” said the Englishman, “it’s the old ram’s last stand.
But don’t get too close; he may have one more charge in him.”
Phil was too absorbed to give heed to this advice. A snap shot of such
a beast would be an achievement indeed. Therefore, he crept closer to
the shelf and the unmoving ram. Frank and Lord Pelton saw the fire in
“Old Baldy’s” eyes; then at last they saw him with a supreme effort
gather his legs beneath him.
“Look out!” shouted Frank.
“He’s coming,” cried the Englishman.
Before Phil, his eyes on the camera “finder,” could retreat there was a
snort and the ram threw himself from the shelf. He fell short on his
charge but, with another cry, sprang to his feet again. This time “Old
Baldy” expanded himself once more into the majestic creature he had
once been and again charged the boy. But once more he fell short, as
Phil sprang backwards.
Balked of his prey the ram fell on his knees and then on his belly.
His head was yet erect; on each side of the cross marking his face his
big dull eyes glared wickedly. Then the flash in them suddenly faded
to a dull gray like his thin, straggly coat, and the defiant head sank
slowly down.
“It’s his last fight,” exclaimed Frank.
Once more Phil advanced and “snapped” the prostrate “monarch of the
mountains.” Then the three approached to within a few feet of the
feeble animal. The old leader of the mountain sheep suddenly threw his
head up; the gray of his eyes turned to fire and, quivering in every
muscle, he rose in the air like a ball. In the same motion the ram
threw himself forward again, but the effort was his last. Half-way in
the spring the beast dropped to the rocks in collapse and, his eyes
closed, sank again and rolled on his side.
“Pelton,” said Frank, omitting in his excitement the young Englishman’s
title, “we’ve always planned, if we found ‘Old Baldy’ alive, that he
was to be yours. His day is over. End his suffering.”
“I don’t like to do it,” said Lord Pelton. “It don’t seem sportsmanlike.”
“You can see he’s dying,” argued Phil. “Isn’t it better that his head
and horns be carried away as a trophy than that the old sheep be left
here to be torn to pieces by eagles?”
Slowly Lord Pelton raised his rifle and, with a bullet in the center of
“Old Baldy’s” cross, Husha the Black Earn gave one convulsion and the
king was dead.
Before taking time to measure the dead ram, Frank and Phil hurriedly
turned for a further examination of old Husha’s home, for such
apparently the natural rock refuge had been for years. The shelf around
the pool was worn smooth by the bodies of its inhabitants. Rock edges
were covered with sheep hair and the scattered bones strewn about
indicated that many animals had died in the enclosure. More especially
interested in the old leader’s throne-like shelf the three hunters
hurried in that direction.
“Another skeleton,” said Frank as he reached Husha’s bench and half
cave.
“But not of a sheep!” exclaimed Lord Pelton breathlessly.
And then, their eyes wide, all saw, plainly enough in the full
sunlight, a brown and weather beaten human skull. It lay in the rear
of the big ram’s refuge and with it the half buried ribs, legs and arm
bones of a human skeleton. Speechless, all leaned forward. The rank
odor of the half cave was almost overpowering and the ledge was covered
inches deep with animal refuse. But, in spite of these, Frank and Phil
jumped on the bench.
The same thought was in the mind of each. Nervously they began an
examination of the bones. Not a vestige of clothing was to be found
but, behind the disjointed skeleton lay a long, decayed stick.
“An Indian bow,” whispered Frank.
From between the bones of the body Phil drew forth a bit of metal――the
silver bowl of a small pipe.
“And an Indian pipe!” he exclaimed.
Kneeling in the dust the boys eyed each other for a second and then
Frank turned to their companion.
“Lord Pelton,” he said with suppressed excitement, “you don’t need to
have any doubt that our big sheep is Husha the Black Ram. This skeleton
is that of the only man who could have followed him here.” Then he held
up the dry skull. “This is all that is left of Koos-ha-nax, the mighty
hunter.”
The discoveries made by the boys had driven all other ideas out of
their heads. For many minutes they searched Husha’s ledge and for as
many more they stood over the dead sheep. Then Lord Pelton reminded
them that “Old Baldy” was not the only ram on the summit and a start
was made to capture other trophies if possible. Contrary to their
expectations many of the sheep had not fled through the cut. From
ten o’clock until twelve, Lord Pelton and the boys scoured the rocky
heights bagging, in all, four magnificent heads.
They now had luncheon and then Phil began a three-hour task of
preparing the slain animals for curing and mounting. “Old Baldy”
himself stood forty-eight inches high; was seventy-six inches long and,
it was estimated, weighed four hundred and seventy-five pounds. His
heavy, semicircular horns measured forty-nine inches from tip to tip.
His pelt was in such bad condition that no attempt was made to save it.
The next largest specimen was a beautiful ram, his horns indicating
a growth of thirteen years. This sheep was shot by Phil and it was
almost black in color. It was forty-one inches across the shoulders;
sixty-nine inches long and weighed about three hundred and fifteen
pounds. The others were all smaller. One of the latter, Lord Pelton’s
prize, had by far the best formed and most perfect horns.
By four o’clock Frank had made temporary repairs on the landing
wheel and with the Englishman had cleared a stretch of summit of
all fragments. Frank also made another round of the summit snapping
pictures and then the souvenirs of the expedition were put aboard the
_Loon_; the skeleton of Koos-ha-nax, as the boys firmly believed; the
six heads and horns; the five pelts and the fragments of the Indian’s
bow and pipe bowl.
The ascent that followed was the quickest and most successful that the
_Loon_ made on its western trip. The rock floor was smooth and amply
long for the preliminary run. At six o’clock the monoplane was again at
Smith’s ranch.
“And so far as I am concerned,” exclaimed Frank, “I don’t care whether
we turn another trick. All I want is to see Skinner and Hosmer and show
’em these heads.”
“And Koos-ha-nax’s skull, pipe and bow,” added Lord Pelton.
“O, no!” said Phil, “these are for Captain Ludington. They’ll prove to
him that the Kootenais knew what they were talking about.”
By the light of the lanterns that night Phil sweat over the specimens,
in anticipation of which work the camp was liberally supplied with
arsenical soap, burnt alum and saltpeter. As the preparation of the
heads and skins was not completed that night it was agreed the next day
that Phil should remain in camp while Frank and Lord Pelton made an
attempt to join Mr. Mackworth’s party.
They made a beautiful flight along the course of tortuous Goat Creek
and reached Goat Pass in less than an hour. So far there was no sign of
the mountain party but――as the members of it were to turn south into
the Herchmer range, at the headwaters of the creek――Frank laid a course
along the ridge of these unmistakable heights. The entire country was
either abrupt mountain slopes or heavy, abutting pine forests.
Following a saw-tooth course to keep an eye on both sides of the range,
the _Loon_ had advanced along the Herchmers only a few miles when Mr.
Mackworth’s camp was suddenly made out far down the western mountain
side in the timber. Several hundred feet above it Mr. Mackworth,
Captain Ludington, Jake Green and the two guides were seen standing on
the barren slope violently waving their arms.
“There’s no white flag,” said Frank. “That means no landing. We’re to
go back. But I wish we could talk to ’em. Say,” he exclaimed. “Write
’em a note. Tell ’em where we’ve been and what we did.”
Lord Pelton grasped the opportunity and, while Frank began circling
about the upgazing persons, the Englishman filled a page of his
memorandum book with an account of the trip to “Baldy’s Bench.” Finding
no small weight in the cabin Lord Pelton tied the note and a silver
dollar in his handkerchief and, the next time the _Loon_ passed over
the group, dropped the message.
Anxious to see the effect of the note, Frank continued the eaglelike
swoops of the monoplane while his English companion lay on the floor
with his head in the open port. Before the message had been read the
latter reported that Skinner was on a run to the camp below. Then
Frank could see the old hunter returning with a package. Mr. Mackworth
read Lord Pelton’s few words and immediately threw his hat in the air.
“Grizzly” Hosmer expressed his feelings by rapidly discharging his
rifle. Then Mr. Mackworth was seen to grasp Skinner’s package and, in a
few seconds, its contents had turned into a long, jointed trout rod. He
waved it in the air.
“He means for us to return to the ranch and go fishing,” called out the
Englishman.
“I think not,” answered Frank. “He has an idea. Look!”
Captain Ludington with a bit of paper on his knee was writing something.
“It’s an answer,” exclaimed Frank. “They’re going to put it on the
pole. They want us to catch it. Can you do it?”
As the operator swung around again in a wide spiral this was seen to
be true, for the men below all seemed working to attach the paper to
the top of the pole. Two sweeping circles and the _Loon_ was near the
rocks. Their friends were shouting but, owing to the noise of the
propellers, not a word could be distinguished.
“Head for it――I’ll get it,” announced the Englishman as he thrust his
head and arm through the opening and, the monoplane sweeping swiftly
forward, Frank felt a light shock.
“Get it?” yelled the aviator.
“Rod and all,” was the excited answer and Lord Pelton drew into the
cabin Mr. Mackworth’s choicest fly rod.
The message read: “_Congratulations. No landing in the mountains.
Return to ranch; break camp and take wagons and outfit to Michel. Join
you in a week or less. Three good heads. One grizzly skin; ten feet._”
Before noon, the monoplane was again in camp. Plans for carrying out
Mr. Mackworth’s instructions were soon made. Early the next morning
Hosmer’s horses were to be caught, hitched to the two wagons and
camp broken. The boys had no fear that they could not find the trail
to town, since it followed the Elk River, but they preferred not to
separate. Therefore, the _Loon_ was dismounted and packed in one wagon.
This consumed nearly all afternoon.
At sundown the next evening the two wagons, one driven by Frank with
the Englishman by his side and the other trailing behind with Phil in
charge, creaked down the main street of Michel. So far as Frank and
Phil were concerned the “Battle with the Bighorn” was at an end.
Five days later the mountain party reached civilization laden with the
trophies of a successful hunt. Mr. Mackworth and Captain Ludington
reached Michel at two o’clock in the afternoon. When the heads, horns,
pelts and skins brought in by both parties had been laid in the shade
of the car, it was a satisfied group of hunters that sat in the Teton’s
easy-chairs to gloat over their treasures.
Nor were they alone in their admiration. Hosmer, Skinner and
experienced big game hunters of Michel pronounced the collection the
best that had ever come out of the mountains. “Grizzly” Skinner and
Phil worked until dark packing the hides and heads for shipment to
Spokane, where experienced taxidermists were to cure and mount them.
This over, Nelse and Robert served a celebration dinner. If there had
been enthusiasm before, this meal was a riot of jollification.
“And remember,” exclaimed Mr. Mackworth as the feast progressed,
“Captain Ludington and I have marvelous heads of both goats and sheep,
and Lord Pelton has a prize that will never be duplicated in the head
and horns of Husha the Black Ram. But we could not have had these
if it had not been for our young friends. Therefore,” he continued
enthusiastically, “I propose a toast: Here’s to Frank Graham and
Phil Ewing――may they be as successful in life as they have been in
‘Battling the Bighorn!’”
* * * * *
The next book in the Aeroplane Series will be
“The Boy Scouts of the Air”
or
“The Aeroplane Spy.”
See complete list of titles on page 2.
The Boys’ Big Game Series
[Illustration]
=THE GIANT MOOSE.= The monarch of the big Northwest; a story told over
camp fires in the reek of cedar smoke and the silence of the barrens.
=THE WHITE TIGER OF NEPAL.= The weird story of the man-killer of the
foothills. Tinged with the mysticism of India, dramatic and stirring.
=THE BLIND LION OF THE CONGO.= A story of the least known part of the
earth and its most feared beast. A gripping tale of the land of the
white pigmies.
=THE KING BEAR OF KADIAK ISLAND.= A tale of the bully of the Frozen
North and his mysterious guardian. A game-and-man-story that makes a
good boy-story.
_The topnotch of production in boys’ books. Remarkable covers and
four-color jackets. Illustrations and cover designs by Dan Sayre
Grosbeck._
Price, 60 cents each
THE REILLY & BRITTON CO.
PUBLISHERS, CHICAGO
The Boy Scouts of the Air Books
_By_ GORDON STUART
[Illustration]
Are stirring stories of adventure in which real boys, clean-cut and
wide-awake, do the things other wide-awake boys like to read about.
_Four titles, per volume, 60 cents_
THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR AT EAGLE CAMP
THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR AT GREENWOOD SCHOOL
THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR IN INDIAN LAND
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_Splendid Illustrations by Norman Hall_
Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago
Bunty Prescott at Englishman’s Camp
_By_ MAJOR M. J. PHILLIPS
Take a boy away from the stuffy schoolroom and turn him loose away up
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[Illustration: BUNTY PRESCOTT AT ENGLISHMAN’S CAMP]
“Bunty Prescott at Englishman’s Camp” is a story full of boy interest,
written by a man who knows boys as he knows the woods and streams――a
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_Snappy cover stamped in three colors, and three-color jacket.
Illustrated by Emile Nelson. Price $1.00_
Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago
[Illustration: The Famous AIRSHIP BOYS SERIES]
_By_ H. L. SAYLER
_SEVEN TITLES_
1. THE AIRSHIP BOYS Or, The Quest of the Aztec Treasure
2. THE AIRSHIP BOYS ADRIFT Or, Saved by an Aeroplane
3. THE AIRSHIP BOYS DUE NORTH Or, By Balloon to the Pole
4. THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN THE BARREN LANDS Or, The Secret of the White
Eskimos
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6. THE AIRSHIP BOYS’ OCEAN FLYER Or, New York to London In Twelve
Hours
7. THE AIRSHIP BOYS AS DETECTIVES Or, On Secret Service in Cloudland
Fascinating stories of that wonderful region of invention where
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_The make-up of these books is strictly up-to-date and
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Standard novel size, 12mo. Price $1.00 each._
Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago
_Good Books for Boys_
The Boy Fortune Hunters Series
_By_ FLOYD AKERS
_The Boy Fortune Hunters in Alaska_
_The Boy Fortune Hunters in Panama_
_The Boy Fortune Hunters in Egypt_
_The Boy Fortune Hunters in China_
_The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan_
_The Boy Fortune Hunters in the South Seas_
Mr. Akers, in these new books, has at a single bound taken the front
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_Illustrated 12mo. Uniform cloth binding, stamped in three
colors. Stunning colored wrapper. Price 60 cents each_
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_=Books for Older Children by L. Frank Baum=_
The Daring Twins Series
_By_ L. FRANK BAUM
In writing “The Daring Twins Series” Mr. Baum yielded to the hundreds
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[Illustration]
A story of the real life of real boys and girls in a real
family under real conditions
_Two Titles:_
The Daring Twins
Phoebe Daring
While preparing these books Mr. Baum lived with his characters. They
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_Price, $1.00 each_
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* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_); text in
bold by “equal” signs (=bold=).
――Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently
corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.